Motorcyclists are no strangers to Lanesboro. Rows of bikes lined Main Street during our afternoon in town. We stopped in at the local winery, checked out a few of the shops, caught a couple of guys playing polka songs on accordions at the Das Wurst Haus and took in some of the local art in the galleries on Main Street.
From Lanesboro, we decided to take the long way home and run the Wisconsin side of the river north to the Twin Cities.
The east side has a different character than the Minnesota side. The road hugs the river a little tighter, and Highway 35 is mostly two-lane, whereas Minnesota's Highway 61 is mostly four-lane. The towns have a different flavor, as well. The steeple-dominated bicyclist-filled small towns of Bluff Country are replaced by little rivertowns populated with tightly packed stores, restaurants and bars with Leinenkugel and Green Bay Packer signs.
One stop on the Wisconsin side that should not be missed is the Harbor View Cafe in Pepin. With a comfortable library motif and a great view of the harbor, this elegant, cozy caf offers some of the finest food south of the Twin Cities. The meal was a perfect way to round off our weekend ride. We parted ways at Prescott, Wisconsin, after watching the sun go down over the Mississippi, and I was left to ponder faith once again.
Finding Faith
Riding helps us feel alive, which, I suppose, brings us closer to a state of religion. I think part of that is the smells and tastes of your environment blowing right through you, all around you. Motorcycling is a step outside the false security of being wrapped in two tons of ABS-equipped airbag-lined steel. You can still get killed in a car, but that fact is much more tangible when all that is between you and the pavement is a few millimeters of leather and a fiberglass bucket.
The question Tim and I stumbled onto while drinking beer in Lanesboro is a bit deeper than my usual concerns of whether or not Favre's arm will hold up for another two years or if I can somehow scrape up enough money for that BMW 1200GS I've been lusting after.
Is riding a religion? I am aware the answer is no. It lacks the cultural history and the deeper moral and philosophical touch points of true religions, but nevertheless, the parallels are there, and for a few dedicated enthusiasts like Hanna, the sport has taken a role in their life similar to that of religion. For those of us who lack such singular dedication, riding puts the sights and smells of the world right in our face. When the world is tangible and sharp and alive, I do feel closer to God. It just seems to happen to me most often when I'm riding a motorcycle.